


here comes the solrock.

by ffomixam



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, Interlude, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medication, Needles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pokemon Journey, Secret Crush, Slow Burn, Teenagers, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2019-11-21 19:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18146711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffomixam/pseuds/ffomixam
Summary: It’s the Monday after, aspiring Pokémon trainer, Paul McCartney’s eighteenth birthday. It was today where he would get his first Pokémon and start his journey to the regional Pokémon League. A journey which would prove itself to be filled with adventure, friendship, danger and romance.





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> changed the age of when you get your starter pokémon from ten to eighteen as i've never been comfortable with the thought of small babies running around in a world filled with dangers. also? this is pretty much set in our world just + pokémon. closely resembling what we've seen of detective pikachu?

_Monday, June 20th._

 

Paul woke up, two days after his eighteenth birthday, to the sound of rain and hail pelting the roof of his family’s old townhouse. Paul took a deep intake of air and sat up, pushing his duvet aside. It was Monday and what an exciting day it was! That not even the sound of heavy splashing around him could hinder. He was eighteen! And for him, that meant that he was finally qualified to receive his first pokémon from the local professor, stationed in the city Pokémon Center, and to register for a Pokédex! And today was the day he could do that. All weekend he had had to wait for this day to arrive. And while it still was in the early morning and he wasn’t supposed to meet with the professor until well after lunch, he had a lot of time to pace around while being beyond excited. But he had planned for that. He had known he wouldn’t be able to sleep long and he had even had trouble falling asleep, spending most of the night thinking about which pokémon he would end up having to choose between.

But first thing first; was getting breakfast. It was thirty past seven and he knew his father would already be awake and getting ready to leave for work at the office. His brother, Mike, had the week off from school due to a rather nasty flu he had acquired after a sleepover at a friends house. It was doctors orders that he should remain in bed to rest and to remember to get plenty to drink. And it had been Paul’s duty to take care of his younger brother, and avoiding getting sick himself.

Paul swung his legs off the bed and looked to the single window in his rather tiny bedroom. It was in the middle of the wall, facing their small garden. It was open, which earned a sigh and inaudible curse, and Paul hurried off the bed to close it as it had already wettened the window still and Paul would have to remember to dry it up before leaving. He paused, looking out the window where, despite the rain and hail, he could hear birds singing, and his room was warm with only the slightest of chills. He quickly got dressed in his pyjamas that he had discarded during the night due to it getting too hot and grabbed his socks that he had carelessly thrown onto his desk chair the night before and hurried downstairs, but slowed down as he went past his brother's room. He hadn’t seen Girlie, the family’s Eevee, in his room where she would usually sleep so he had assumed she would be with Mike as she had appeared quite concerned for the boy’s wellbeing. The nurturing Eevee had been in the family since Paul was eleven and had originally been his mother’s. But as she had passed almost four years ago, the caretaking of the small pokémon had gone to Paul, as he was the older child and his father was always too busy with work.

As he finally reached the kitchen he saw that his dad was, as Paul had guessed, awake. All dressed in his work attire; he looked ready to go, sipping his tea that was still steaming. Paul stopped at the kitchen door threshold and noticed his father had looked up from his newspaper at him. “Any water left?” Paul asked and nodded his head towards the stove. His dad grunted, “Yes, and it is still warm.” Hearing that; Paul jumped to the kettle and quickly grabbed a mug that was already placed ready for him by his dad, he must’ve known he would be up early today. He reached up to a nearby cupboard and dug out a teabag, Oolong fused with honey, and placed it in his cup of steaming water. He turned around, waiting for the tea to chill, and looked to his dad who had returned to reading the paper.

“I’m going to George’s in an hour to hang out before… y’know, later today.” He said, suddenly feeling anxious with the excitement he had felt for so long, while itching his neck. His dad nodded and stood up, “Right- Just check on Mike before you leave.” He then placed his used mug in the sink and left the kitchen out to the foyer. Paul’s father said his goodbyes which Paul quickly returned before Paul then heard a muffled sound of a coat being put on and then of the door opening and closing.

 

* * *

 

Later when Paul finally had gotten dressed, it had taken him a while to decide on what to wear as he wanted to look smart for picking his first pokémon but also practical as it was still pouring rain outside. While the rain bothered him; he was glad it had at least stopped hailing. Rain, his trusty umbrella could handle. Hail, he wasn’t as sure about. He looked around his room to check if he weren’t missing anything before leaving and quietly went to his brother’s room. On the door to the room was a giant poster of a famous pokémon trainer Brian June and his, almost more famous, Wigglytuff. He carefully opened the door and peeked inside. Yes, Mike was still asleep as Paul had expected him to be, with the loyal Eevee snuggled tightly at his side with no worries of catching the same cold. Satisfied and amused at the cute sight, Paul hurried down the stairs and quickly grabbed his umbrella before getting out of the now very quiet house.

It was a long walk to George’s house, and Paul knew he wouldn’t even be awake yet as he had no school today either, but Paul had plenty of time and the rain wasn’t… that bad. At least not yet, so Paul sped up not wanting to risk it. He really should have checked the weather forecast from the newspaper his dad had read, or he could have asked his dad even. Oh, well, that was in the past and he wasn’t the only one out as he passed multiple people, without umbrellas, so maybe it was clear skies ahead, literally. Paul crossed the street away from his house and greeted a neighbour out with her Meowth before he headed down the street towards the pathway that would lead to George’s neighbourhood. The pathway lead him past a kindergarten slowly filling up with small children and nurturing personnel and pokémon to watch out for them. Toddlers hopping around in big rain boots, laughing as the rain puddle splashed especially hard, much to the exasperation of the pedagogues, causing Paul to laugh. Later, as he passed a row of apartments; he went past the private playground; empty, waiting for tenant’s children to get free from school and to come and play. Only now, there was a mass of birds surrounding the swingsets and the alike, nestling in the sand. Two Pidgeys were playing a tug of war for a worm, which earned a chuckle from Paul.

Finally, Paul reached the small council house that the Harrison family called their home. Paul had always thought that he lived in close quarters with just his father and brother, but that was before he met George and his three siblings. As Paul reached the garden gate to the small front yard, he could spy activity through the living room's window, George’s father Harold was reading a book, not having the need to leave for work before much later, as Paul knew. And just at the corner of the window; Paul could see the tip of the Harrison’s Farfetch’d head. And so, Paul went to the front door and knocked. It soon opened and there stood Louise, George’s sister, and Paul quickly flashed a polite smile.

“‘ello,” he greeted and adjusted the collar of his jacket. Louise greeted back, as you do, before muttering into the living room. “Father, it’s Paul.” Paul heard be said. A quack followed by someone talking in said in low enough response that Paul didn’t quite manage to hear it but as Louise stepped back into the foyer with a smile on her face, he could guess what it was. “He’s upstairs,” she said and went in the direction of where, Paul knew from his many visits, the kitchen was. He quickly went up the stairs, but of course in a polite safe manner, and went to knock on George’s room. No response. He tried again. No response, but a vague groaning was heard. Paul took that as an invitation to step inside. He flung the door open and yelled as loud as he could, “Good morning!” causing the younger boy to fall out of bed. Paul laughed at the sight and went to kneel beside the now awake George.

In his fall from bed; George had managed to pull both pillow and blanket down with him. Only the long, pale, legs were to be seen as the duvet was messily covering George’s head. A rumbling was heard coming from where Paul estimated the head would be. “Good morning,” Paul repeated in a sing-song voice trying his best not to laugh before ultimately failing. A head of messy brown hair poked out of the bundled mess, thick eyebrows furrowed as narrowed eyes stared up at Paul. “Morning,” was grumbled as the laying boy yawned. Paul dug out George’s arm from the blanketed mess and pulled him to his feet. There was stumbling which caused them both to land on the bed right next to them, both laughing in the downfall. “Well,” Paul started through his laughter, “today’s the day!” He exclaimed and turned to look at the other boy. George flashed a bright smile and with a fast nod, “It is!”

Paul leapt off the bed with a wide smile, feeling very excited and happy that it was shared with his friend who was still sitting on his bed. It was only now that Paul noticed George was only wearing his underpants. Remember; he had woken the younger boy by surprise. Of course, it was nothing Paul hadn’t seen before, “Suppose you’ll get dressed before we leave? Or else you’ll give people a mighty shock, y’know”, Paul jested and looked to George who was now slightly blushing. “Give me a chance, yeah?” He said, still with a smile, and went past Paul to a wooden dressed at the other end of the small room. Paul waited as long as he could in stillness before the sight of George’s guitar was too much of a temptation to bear. Now, an unspoken rule between fellow musicians was to never touch the others instruments but Paul and George were best mates and had borrowed each other their guitars before and knew this would be alright.

Paul stood close to the door as he strummed carefully on the strings of the old guitar while occasionally glancing towards his own reflection in a nearby mirror hanging on a wall. He overheard the rustling of clothes and the quiet humming of George as he concentrated between the music and dressing. Only a short while later, George was dressed and looked at him with a smile he could only describe as doofy. Paul put the guitar and the two boys playfully shoved each other as they went out of the room and down the stairs. “‘m starving,” George mumbled as they reached the end of the staircase and went directly to the kitchen. Paul poked his head into the living room to properly greet George’s father, as he had neglected to do so before, and then joined George in the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Later, the boys had made their way towards the city centre, holding tightly to their umbrellas. It was a long walk and they really should’ve taken the bus but the day was filled with excitement and they couldn’t contain the energy that had given them. They talked and laughed loudly, causing people to stare but they couldn’t even begin to care as the day had promised ahead that held their mood to great heights. It was nearing lunch, near the time that Paul was anticipating a great deal, and they decided to grab a bite before heading towards the Pokécenter. They wanted to be there early. So they went to a popular hangout spot for teens and young adults in town, knowing it wouldn’t be busy when most were at school anyway. It was a fish and chips shop, the facade of it worn from weather and age and inside they could see they weren’t the only ones to have had the idea of grabbing something to eat. A group of boys, older than himself he presumed, dressed in teddy boy attire, hair quiffed, were loudly talking and laughing standing and sitting around the place inside the restaurant.

The one that was sitting in the middle of the group, the leader he guessed, looked to Paul and George with a smirk and a quick wink before returning to his conversation. His slightly damp light brown hair was quiffed to perfection, despite the rain, but from where Paul stood there weren’t much he could see about the figure other than the Charmander he had at his side. He wasn’t the only one with a pokémon out. From where Paul stood, he could see a Murkrow teasing a Houndour on the floor over a leftover chip. The restaurant allowed Pokémon to be outside of the ball and even had free treats and water for them included in your purchase. He heard George sigh but saw him give a slight smirk as he said, “so we going in? Or are you going to stare at that fella all day?” Paul turned to George. “Was not!” was his immediate reaction before laughing along with George before lightly shoving him as they made their way to the glass door of the shop, quickly shaking their umbrellas dry before heading inside.

Inside; it was warm. Not an uncomfortable heat restaurants with open kitchens which Paul felt they usually had. For once this warmth was a welcoming presence from the chilly cold and rain from outside. The sounds of the other group talking stalled for a second as Paul and George stepped inside and glances were cast but it wasn’t long before the chatter resumed. Paul noticed the leader staring a beat longer than the rest and winked at him. After the boys had ordered; they decided to sit the furthest away from the bigger group, to better talk and hear themselves. And it was possible, a slight possibility, that they found the older boys ever the slightest intimidating. The moment they sat; roaring laughter and yelling erupted from the opposite side. It seemed the Houndour had finally had enough of the bird pokémon’s shenanigans and had lunged at it. The Murkrow had moved and instead, the Houndour had it one of the boy's leg and toppled him over. A manager rushed out to check on the commotion. Paul and George returned to their on conversation and waited for the food to arrive. Paul hadn’t ordered anything big as he was not all that hungry; opposed to George, who had almost just eaten, had ordered a large portion. The kid always seemed to be hungry.

Their food arrived and as they finished it and got ready to leave; a member of the other group slowly made his way over them. He was a tall, lanky guy with short quiff and acne scars across his cheeks. He looked down on the still sitting Paul and George and said, “Why don’t ya join us? Saw ya lookin’ at my mate before and thought you’d be up for some fun with the rest of us.” He smirked. Paul shook his head, “No, like. We were just leaving.” The stranger's smirk faltered, glanced at George, and he moved slightly as Paul got up. “Ah, come one. We won’t bite.” His smirk made a return and he stepped close to Paul, removing all personal space. Just as Paul was about to speak; a voice from the other side of the room was raised, “Oi, Stan. Leave those lads alone, yeah? We got better things to do.” Paul looked past, apparently, Stan and saw that it was the guy from before. Proving he might really be in charge. Paul glanced at George who seemed to have had the same thought. “Oh, Johnny boy, how ye forsake me,” the guy said with a pretend sadness and the back of his hand thrown at his forehead as he had turned to look at the leader. But he left. Quickly, Paul and George nodded their thanks to this Johnny and left the restaurant.

The door to the restaurant hadn’t even fully closed before the boys broke out in laughter. “That was ridiculous!” Paul managed out between his laughs, sounding more like a wheeze due to his lack of breath. Both looked back into the restaurant and noticed they were watched by the group inside. Laughing, they hurried quickly along the road towards the Pokécenter.

On the way, they passed multiple stories Paul mentally saved for later as they stored necessary, or at least very useful, equipment for aspiring pokémon trailers. Plastered on light posts, billboards and brick walls were posters of various events. For musicians, performers and gyms out of town and the local one. A man with a Persian at his side was reading a commercial for master balls promising a discount of half off when shown a badge from the city gym. Paul felt a tap and a “Look!” from George as they passed a music shop. A man was putting up a sign on the window from inside, announcing the release of a new album of a guitarist the boys liked. The cover for the vinyl was blown up in the middle of the poster with the artist name, Roxana Laima, displayed in a neat font over it. The cover was an artist rendering of a Zigzagoon resting under a bundle of sand on a beach. Paul guessed it was a depiction of the now Linoone that he knew Roxana owned. “We can check that out on our way back, yeah?” Paul said, feeling the anxiousness of his proximity to the Pokécenter, he could see the roof of it across the park they needed to pass through, and as the time grew closer to their meeting. “Yeah,” George nodded, only slightly dismayed, and they crossed the street, entering the park.

The boys almost didn’t make it past the gate of the park before nearly getting trampled by a pair of men running past them, both dressed in purple with Ekans following them close by. George looked to Paul in shock, both having jumped to each their own side in an attempted at avoided being flattened. George looked towards the way the duo had run and back to Paul. Paul shrugged and started walking again. The path through the park was a straight line and ended directly in front of the Pokécenter. The center was big with a garden where patients and visitors could roam about with a view to the park. It was the biggest building around, as it was also the main Pokécenter in the city. Paul looked to George with a wide grin and sped up; daring the other boy to a race the rest of the way. It was tied. As the boys were catching their breath, both could hear a commotion going on inside and looked at each other with raised brows. And as they headed inside, they soon found out why.

The whole place was in disarray so much was obvious even through the somber silence. Cops standing around with their Growlithes, talking to people and walking around. One with an Arcanine looked to Paul and George as the whooshing of the automatic doors. And as the boys made their way further in; the cop made their way towards them. It was a serious looking large man with greying hair. “You must be Paul. McCartney, right? Miss Varcoe told me would arrive right about now. My name is Officer David and I’m in charge of this crime scene,” he said slowly, looking down at him.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Paul nodded and looked around. “Uh, what happened here?” He asked and looked back to the officer. Officer David scoffed, “some hooligans broke into Miss Varcoe’s office as she was preparing the meeting room, where you were to meet, and stole the pokémon she had there, one of which you were to receive. We believe them to be part of a new gang calling themselves Epoch, but more than that I can’t say.” Officer David crossed his arms. Paul could feel a tightening in his chest and looked in shock to George. He looked equally surprised and Paul wondered out loud if this meant he wasn’t to get a pokémon.  “Don’t know about that,” David responded, “You’ll have to ask Miss Varcoe.” He pointed to a white-haired woman hunched over in a seat near the escalators with her face hidden behind her hands. Paul gave his thanks and somberly made his way towards the woman.

“Excuse me,” he quietly said and wondered if it even were audible. It must have been as she looked up, or she could’ve seen his mudded shoes enter her view. “Yes?” She asked and looked up with redded eyes and tears down her cheeks. And before he could say anything, she gave out a wail. “Oh! You must be Paul! I am so sorry! I really didn't expect this. I’m- I- Who would do this? This is so horrible.” She broke down and Paul became unsure of what to do as he glanced towards George who now stood beside him. “Oh, if I could get my hands on them,” she grumbled and stood up. Paul quickly looked at her again. She had made a sudden change, as if something had clicked inside her. “Follow me.” She commanded and started walking at a fast pace. George and Paul looked, puzzled, at each other before quickly hurrying to follow the older woman. They entered a room, her office Paul realised, and was asked to take place in the two seats facing a grand desk. Varcoe sat on the other side of the desk and looked at them seriously. “Uh, what’s going on?” George asked as she rested her hands under her chin.

She looked at both of them before straightening up, “I know what to do. And I knew the assistance of the two of you.” She stood up and waved her hand, asking them to follow her. Further, in the room, she stopped in front of a desk with a single pokéball. There was a moment of silence as she looked down at the ball, seemingly deep in thought, before she picked it up and stretched her hand towards Paul. “This is unorthodox, I know, but he’s the only one left.” Paul reached out towards the ball but stopped as she spoke again, “You can get him on one condition… Find the ones responsible and get my children back.” Paul stood in awe, thinking. She was entrusting that to him?

“Why?” He said, not meaning to think it out loud. “The police in this town are incompetent. And, yes, while we’ve just met, Paul, I knew your mother. And I know to trust you, and your friend with this.” Paul’s eyes widened. She had known his mother? He had never heard of her before, at least not outside of pokémon breeding related topics. “I understand the confusion. But trust me, as I do you, that you’re more than capable of this.”  Paul slowly nodded, finally grabbing the ball gently. Its metal was cold to the touch. Thoughts rushed through Paul’s head as he looked down at it.

Was he really about to do this? Accept this… what? Mission? From a woman he just met? He knew in his heart it was the right thing to do but something in the back of his mind reminded him of his family. His sick brother, and the father that would more than likely disapprove of this journey. No, he could do this. There were literally lives at stake. But how to even begin to start looking, he wasn’t sure. But as if she had read his mind, Varcoe moved towards her desk while saying, “Now I recognised one of the brutes as they shoved past me in the hallway. His name is Joe Hallard. He used to hang out with my nephew, Christopher, and his friends in the arcade down at the pier. You can start there.” She turned to look at them, resting herself against the desk. “But first thing first; aren’t you going to say hi to your new friend?” She smiled and looked at Paul’s hand.  Paul felt his hands starting to shake as he looked back and forth between the ball and his friend. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he clicked the small white circle on the ball and then threw it towards the ground.


	2. two.

_ Monday, June 20th continued… _

The pokéball opened, before it even reached the ground, with a bright flash of light, reminiscent of sun rays, that Paul felt could’ve blinded him if he hadn’t shielded his eyes from the yellow light. And as the room got back to its natural light, the only sound he could hear was his own quick breathing and that of a small yelp. Paul removed his arm and looked to the source. It was a small green serpent-like pokémon that Paul didn’t recognise. It’s large brown eyes looked back at him, studying him. “It’s a Snivy.” He heard the professor state as he held his place in the staring contest it was turning into. The Snivy harrumphed, crossed its arms and turned to look at George, now studying him. Paul took a moment to stare back on forth between his friend and the pokémon before turning to the professor. 

“His name is Walton. He was a gift from a friend who no longer could take of him.” She crossed her arms and looked to the small pokémon that were still holding George under a scrutinising gaze. George looked uncomfortable, unsure of what to do other than looking anywhere but at the pokémon. “I specialise in the trio of Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle so his potential would’ve been completely wasted here. So, in a way, it’s a good thing all of this happened. If not just for him.” She sighed and left the desk to crouch beside the Snivy, who now finally left George alone to look at the professor. It emitted a small sound and pushed the professor's arm with its head, earning itself soft caresses. The woman slightly turned to face Paul and directed with her hand for him to come over. As he crouched beside her, she took his hand and replaced it with hers on the Snivy’s head. “I have a feeling you’ll be great friends,” she said as she stood back up.

Paul smiled down at the small pokémon. Its eyes were closed and he looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself. Paul silently motioned for George to join him while the professor had her back turned, looking through some drawers. George was careful in his movements and the moment he crouched down, the Snivy’s eyes snapped open, surprising George and causing him to fall over backwards. The Snivy snickered and went to bud its head against George’s knee, inviting him to pet it once he had gotten back up again. It was then that Paul noticed the professor looking down at them with a smile. 

“Oh my,” Paul suddenly heard from the professor. “I just realised I never probably introduced myself. Oh, what you must think of me.”

“It’s alright,” George started to say but swiftly got interrupted. “No no,” she shook her head. “Not at all. My name is Amy Varcoe. Professor of this here lab, as I’m sure you know,” she laughed and got over to them. “Well, I’m Paul McCartney,” he knew she knew this but it only felt appropriate, “and this is George… Uh, Harrison.” He introduced his friend with a nod in his direction, too busy with his hands petting the attention seeking pokémon. The professor smiled at George who sent her a glance before feeling his hand pulled by the Snivy, to return his attention to it.

“Got something for the two of you,” she said and went down to sit beside the two boys and the pokémon. Once there, with their attention now returned to her, she handed them each a Pokédex. “Though you might need these,” she smiled. She shifted slightly and looked at George, “And I am sorry I don’t have pokémon for you. I don’t recall having to meet you either.” 

“Oh, I’m not old enough yet. I was just here with Paul as a friend.” The professor nodded along to his word. “And what a good friend you are. Keep the Pokédex.” She smiled and turned to Paul. She rummaged through one of the pockets on her coat and pulled out a slip of paper. “Here’s my contact info if you’d ever need anything. On it is also my nephew's number and address, but right now he should be at the docks for you to find him. Near the arcade, if not in it.” She clapped her knees and stood, shortly looking down at Paul before going to her desk. George stood, and so did Paul, though not before he cast a glance to the Snivy who was looking over at the professor with a studying look. 

The professor spoke, “I recommended leaving Walton out of his ball for the first couple of weeks. So both of you can grow accustomed to each other, and also so he can build his trust in you.”

Once they all had said the goodbyes and exchanged their contact information; the boys, and pokémon, left the Pokécenter and headed towards the docks. They hadn’t spent much time with the professor and it was still only late noon. Both equipped with each their own orange, given to them by the professor on the basis of it being ‘good for you’ and ‘full of vitamin c’, the boys yet again passed through the park. The park, Wilkins Memorial as it was officially named, was filled with police officers and their pokémon; talking in groups or searching the area.

The boys looked at each other before leaving the park. Not sure what to either say or feel about the experience at the Pokécenter. Confusion overtaking anything else.

“That was… interesting ” George spoke, scratching his neck while looking back to the center. Paul nodded and breathed out his agreements. Things had wildly taken its own course, leaving them with an adventure of their own, coupled with wonders of Professor Amy Varcoe’s eccentric behaviour.

Paul was conflicted. While he was definitely ecstatic over his first pokémon… There was this… mission? Yes, he wanted to help the professor but knew his father certainly wouldn’t approve or allow it for that matter. Sure, Paul was eighteen. Legally an adult. Yet, he still lived under his father's roof and followed his rules. 

But he knew the least he could do, (before dealing with his father), was checking out the docks as told by the professor.

The walk to the docks wasn’t long, though neither were it significantly short. It was good with the exercise, either way, Paul had to admit to himself. As lately he had spent a long time in his room playing the guitar or reading up on Pokémon. And while it had stopped raining long ago, the wind was howling and as they came closer to the sea; the smell of saltwater became more prominent. Along with that of fish.

The part of the docks they had reached were empty, spare leaving workers and a few straggling gulls mixed with one or two Wingulls. The arcade was nearby. Paul had never been there before, and he knew neither had George. It was seen as a place for older kids. Kids typically of a certain… attitude. Gangs, and the sort. Now, Paul was by no mean straight laced; it just wasn’t a place he previously had an interest in going to normally. Today was different.

The façade of the building was old. The paint chipping away and the old arcade sign hanging loose. The sign said ‘Wonderland’ in large letters, with a tagline of ‘Happiness is a Warm Arcade’ hanging dangerously close to the ground. Paul held back a shudder; now fully understanding its reputation. It was creepy, run down, and certainly didn’t look like something that was getting much attention.  George and Paul looked at each other, silently daring the other to go first. It ended up being Wilton going into action; who gave a cry of impatience and pushed Paul to the door.

Paul sighed, and unsure of whether he should knock, but decided at the end of just going in. He could feel George holding the back of his old Harrington jacket, helping to keep his nervousness at bay as he walked. It was dark as the window as boarded up. The only light being from a few active machines, played by young men, their backs turned to the door. A firepit was active further in the room, not something Paul thought a smart idea, and it was surrounded by more men. “...Hello?” He yelled into the large room. 

It didn’t seem he was heard. Paul glanced at George behind him and gave him a quick nod before he started to walk towards the firepit. As Paul got closer, he could see the scattering of bottles and cigarette butts. There were both men sitting and standing, all either talking or laughing. The clanking of their shoes on the cold concrete floor slowly getting drowned by the volume of the strangers. One huffed out smoke and looked at them, poking to a friend beside him and pointed to Paul and George.

He turned around and Paul immediately recognised him. It was the same guy from the fish ‘n’ chip shop! The guy who winked at him. The one who had winked back at. Paul stopped walking and felt George lightly bumped into him at the sudden halt. “What… Oh,” he heard whispered behind him, assuming that George had now also recognised the young man.

The still unknown stranger, who wasn’t feeling so strange anymore, slowly stood up with a smirk careful in always facing them. “Oi, I remember the two of you,” he gave a small laugh and looked over his shoulder to one of his friends before looking back at them, “come to take Stan up on his offer? I’m sure he’ll be very happy ‘bout that.”

A “no!” came suddenly from George, taking Paul by surprise as George was standing with his head right next to Paul’s ear. John laughed and George continued, unsteadily, “we’re here for, um,” He glanced at Paul, looking nervous with his brows raised, and Paul took over for him. “We’re looking for Christopher Varcoe.” Walton gave a huff down by Paul’s feet.

“Chris?” The man guffawed. “T’fuck would ya want with Chris?” He came closer to the two boys, a lit smoke in his hand, shortly glancing down at the Snivy. He was looking much the same as earlier, his hair now dry. Paul felt it getting harder to breathe, trying not to feel intimidated by the leather-clad man.  He took notice of the other man looking him up and down and felt George shift behind him.

Paul steadied himself and quickly glanced at George, who had now moved to stand beside him in almost a guarding way. He looked the stranger into his slender eyes, “to talk to him.” He took a drag from his smoke and shrugged, “Alright, he’s in the back playing Whack-A-Patrat with ya old buddy Stan.” 

And then he started walking away, away from the firepit and further into the room. Paul and George looked at each other confused by the sudden shift in mood. “You coming?” They were asked by the stranger, who had stopped to look back at them. Paul quickly nodded and followed along. He halted as a hand appeared in front of him, “I’m John.” The stranger, John, said looking at him patiently. 

Paul was quick to return the gesture and shook his hand. John’s hand were warm against his own, still cold from being outside. He heard George introduce himself, but not much else; his ears suddenly feeling warm, his hand tingling. Strange, but he shrugged it off as John briefly stopped in front of a closed door. He patted his pockets, not saying anything, and continued inside.

The door opened and the boys were immediately meet by the large volume of various noises, ones typical for an arcade. Something Paul hadn’t noticed before now that he had missed, remembering the odd sensation of walking past old beat up machines, left to be forgotten and never played again. There also was the warm smell of pizza, that Paul soon saw several boxes of on an old wooden table almost perfectly placed in the centre of the room. “Can I…?” He heard George say next to him and noticing him pointing towards the boxes. “Yeah, whatever,” was the shrugged response by John who continued walking to the back of the room, with Paul by his heels.  

Soon Paul saw the back on two men, one more slender than the other, leaning over something that Paul would have to guess was the aforementioned Whack-A-Patrat machine. Paul stopped and looked as John sneaked up to the tallest one, who wasn’t playing; suddenly yelling, surprising the guy. “Damnit, John,” was yelled by an unfamiliar voice. He turned around and Paul could tell that this was the guy they were looking for; the family resemblance uncanny. His curly hair and bright eyes were quickly turned from John to Paul, and back to John. “Who’re they?” He asked and crossed his arms; sleeves rolled up, showing up tattoos that Paul couldn’t yet tell what depicted.

“Eh... Paul,” John pointed to him with his thumb, “and George.” He then pointed at George and took another drag from his nearly finished cigarette and left to sit on the arm of an armchair, facing the boys, by the table with the pizzas. Paul glanced at John as he went by him, flushing as he noticed John was looking back at him with a smirk and hurried to look at the new guy, Chris, who was looking at them both with a raised brow. 

“Yeah?” It came from Chris and before Paul could answer, the guy beside Chris, who had previously been otherwise very active in beating on the machine, turned around with a bright grin. “Oh! Look who it is!” He gave Chris’ shoulder a light shove and nodded towards Paul, “that’s the lad I told you ‘bout.” Chris rolled his eyes, “right, well, he was about to tell me something so, go.” Stan, Paul remembered his name to be, groaned and left to sit on a couch close by John and the food. Paul could feel them staring at him; his Snivy had turned to stare back at them.

“Your aunt sent us here,” he began and continued into telling the story of earlier that day. Of how he had seen the robbers, ignorant of what they had done at the time. Of his meeting with the professor and what she had then relied on them. Of what she wanted them to do. “And,” he started his closing statement, “she recognised one of the thieves. An old friend of yours; Joe Hallard? She expected you to know where to find him.” 

“ _ Joe? _ ” Chris furrowed his brows and sighed, “haven’t heard that name in a while.” He placed his hand on Paul's shoulder and lead him to the couch, “Let’s sit. You too, George.” He smiled and sat down next to Stan. There was a second couch, across from the other couch with the table between them that the boys sat in. Paul picked up his Snivy and placed him between himself and George. The Pokémon was slowly dozing off.

“I’m not surprised at this, y’know. Joe was always on the edge of the law and easily convinced to do stupid shit.” He looked at John with a knowing smile, “right, John?” John huffed, “don’t know what yer talking about,” and slid down from the armrest to now properly sit in the chair. Chris laughed.

“Anyway, I don’t know his exact location but I can guess where he might be,” Chris cast a quick glance to Stan before leaning over to rest his hands on his own knees. “Now, Paul, Stan isn’t exactly… the sharpest tool in the shed. He-” John interrupted, “he’s a fucking dumbass,” and Chris continued with a sigh. “I suspect after a  _ heist _ like that; he might’ve just gone back to his parents' house. They’ve always doted on him so they probably don’t even know, or would even believe, that their ‘sweet little boy’ would be capable of doing something like that.” Chris shook his head with another sigh, “he’s completely taking advantage of them.”

John muttered a comment, his nasal tone indicating it may have been an insult, something that Paul didn’t hear. Paul carefully glanced at him, and studied him. His slender eyes focused on Chris, their colours weren’t something Paul could quite tell but they looked brown from where he sat. He was wearing the typical teddy boy attire; leather jacket over a white tee. Drain pipe trousers, though with noticeable wear and tear, scrapes on the knees. Finished off with black booths. Another cigarette in hand. Overall, a look Paul could tell was the kind George had tried to emulate over the past few months, for whatever reason. It didn’t look bad, Paul could admit to himself. 

Chris got his attention again by saying, “I can take you there. His parents know me pretty well and will let me into his room even if he weren’t there.” He stood up and looked at John, “come along?” John sighed and nodded, groaning as he got up from his position on the chair, he had moved around and had been sitting awkwardly with his legs across the arm of the chair this time around. Chris looked down at the still sitting Stan, “stay here with the others.” Stan started protesting but Chris had already gone towards the door. Paul and George hurried to follow along. With Walton right at their heels.

Chris talked to them as they walked through the desolate arcade to the exit, “now the Hallard family live a while away into town but I got my car here so we’ll take that. There’s just about space for us all. John can sit up front with me and the two of you can sit together in the back.” Paul and George looked at each other in reassurance and nodded. 

They soon reached the car, an old Ford Zephyr, and got in. It had a hanging smell of tobacco and pine. The latter coming from an air freshener hanging off the —- mirror. The engine roared as it was turned on and soon they were out on the road.

Walton was safely secured on Paul’s lap, the body heat of the Pokémon not mixing well with the already warm car; making Paul slightly nauseous and his chest feel tight. As if he knew; John turned on the air condition. Otherwise, the men in the car were silent for a few minutes until;

“Why is it you hang about in an abandoned arcade?” George suddenly asked, leaning forward. John looked over at him and deadpanned, “it’s not abandoned if we’re there, is it.” Chris snickered and decided to actually answer, “it first started out as a job to keep looters and vagrants out. Now we just like to hang out there.”

“So now you’re the vagrants,” George commented with a smirk. Chris laughed, “I suppose so, yeah.” Paul couldn’t see what John’s reaction was, and wondered why he even cared to know. 

It was nearly late afternoon by now and Paul could slowly feel the weight of the day on his muscles. He yawned, picking it up from Walton who had just yawned in his sleep. As it was summer, the sky was still bright and sunny, making it easy to forget how the weather had been earlier in the day. The car suddenly came to halt. And looking out, Paul could see a large house, the facade made of rough stone.

“Come along then,” Chris said and climbed out of the car.  The others were quick to follow, leaving the Snivy to sleep in the car with the windows down. Chris was quick to the door and soon were knocking it politely. It opened just as Paul had stopped to stand behind John, who was next to Chris. George smiled at Paul as they stood next to each other.

“Christopher!” A woman, who had opened the front door, yelled out. Her slender arms were soon engulfing the aforementioned boy in a tight hug. “Abigail,” wheezed out of Chris. Paul noticed John rolling his eyes. The older woman let go of Chris and smiled greatly, “oh, I haven’t seen you for forever! Are these your friends? Oh! John! Come in, come in.” No answers were managed to be given before Chris had been pulled inside by Abigail. John and George followed the pair and just as Paul were to go along with them; It was then that Paul noticed a Delcatty, standing in the entrance blocking his way.

“... Hi,” he greeted in a small voice, feeling awkward looking at the newcomer.  He took a step forward; trying to pass it, but it just wouldn't let him, moving in front of him just as he moved aside. “C’mon,” he muttered and tried to move around it again. And again, he was blocked. He heard his name getting called from further in the house and sighed, looking down at the feline pokémon. He heard a snicker and quickly looked up; it was John, leaning against a wall further in the foyer with a grin on his face.

“Havin’ trouble?” Paul was asked by John, who seemed to find the situation very funny. Paul frowned, feeling the embarrassment finally hit him. It was enough with the Delcatty troubling him, but now he also had an audience. “I’m fine,” he huffed and moved to get in. Again, he was blocked which earned a bark of laughter from John.

Paul glared at John, who now had seemed to take that as an invitation to give his advice. “You have to ask it nicely,” he cooed. Paul closed his eyes with a sigh.  _ Of course _ . He then looked back down at the Delcatty, willing away his irritation. “ _ Please _ , may I come inside.” The pokémon’s only response was to blink at him.

“Nicer!” John piped up, earning himself yet another glare. The cat had now sat down and looked at Paul curiously, it’s head tilted. Paul sighed and started, “ _ Pretty _ please, may I-” but before he could continue; out came the rest of the group from the opening behind John. “Oh, there you are, dear Gracie,” Abigail gushed and crouched down with open arms. The Delcatty ran into her embrace with a soft  _ meow. _

“What’s keeping you?” Chris asked as Paul finally made it inside and over to the group. John answered for him, “jus’ messing around.” He laughed and gave Paul a light shove, who only frowned at him, now realising he probably didn’t even have to go through all of that to get inside. Realising he had had his leg pulled by John. 

“Well,” Chris glanced from John to Paul with a raised brow, “Joe is upstairs. He doesn’t yet know we’re here… So let’s give him a surprise, yeah?” He smiled and turned to walk up the grand staircase in the middle of the foyer. 

Soon they reached the room belonging to Joe, easily recognisable with a bright red ‘Keep Out’ sign hanging on an otherwise pristine white wooden door. Music was playing, the hard tones audible through the wood. Chris knocked but got no answer. John made his way in front and nodded at Chris, “let me”. He smirked and cracked his knuckles. Soon the door was barged open. Joe jumped out of the chair he was sitting in, with a panicked look in his eyes. “Hi!” was the only thing from John and stepped aside so the rest could get in. “A little dramatic, John,” Chris whispered as they passed each other.

“What do you want?” Joe cracked out. He was backed against a wall, looking hurriedly between them all before resting on Chris with wide eyes. Paul could tell he knew exactly what they wanted. “Joe,” Chris started, “we just need to talk. That’s all.” He went closer to the panicked youth. “Tell me where my aunt’s pokémon is and we’ll leave, peacefully.”

John turned the music off, afterwards crossing his arms. Joe stammered, “I-I don’t have them.” Chris sighed and muttered an “ _ of course _ ”. 

“Then where are they?” Paul piped up and walked up next to Chris. “W-Who’s this?” Joe glanced at Paul, not daring to take his eyes away from Chris. “Nevermind who he is,” was heard from John who walked up to Joe. “Just answer the kid,” he urged.

“Blackpool!” was sputtered out by an increasingly panicked Joe. “They’re in Blackpool. With Tommy. Uh, Thomas Brauer.” He feverishly nodded along to what he said. “Yeah, yeah… At the, uh, Escavalier Inn, near the south pier.” He shifted, probably uncomfortable in the position he was in. “That’s all I know! He knows more than I do, I swear!”

“That’s enough,” Chris commanded and John took a step back and muttered, “remind me to never have me in my secret organization.” Joe heaved a big sigh of relief and slumped down unto the floor. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ve already called the cops.” Paul turned, not having expected George to speak. They smiled at each other, satisfaction getting to the both of them.

 

* * *

 

Later, the gang were gathered back in the arcade; only the four of them left as it had gotten late and most had left for their own homes. Paul and the rest were sitting exactly as they had done earlier, the only exception being Walton, who had curled up into George’s lap. 

They were discussing their plans and what to do with the new information. It hadn’t taken them long to reach a conclusion; they had to go to Blackpool. The only thing was, Paul knew his father wouldn’t allow it. And George shared his scepticism about his own parents. And Chris had informed them that he couldn’t go to Blackpool due to the simply having the lack of time for it; work being too important to miss.

“He might let me go,” Paul informed them, “if George were with me. But not if he knew why. I’m not much for it but; I’ll just tell him it’s for a trip. A short vacation.” Beside him, George nodded, “My parents would let me go for that.” John silently looked at them both and suddenly stood up, “I’ll go with the both of ya… I don’t have anything better to do, anyway.” He sniffed and looked around, “We can meet here tomorrow morning, at eight, and then take the train to Blackpool.” His eyes settled on Paul, “See you then.” And then he left. 

“Right, well,” Chris stood up. “That’s that then. Get home safely, okay?” And then he left too, leaving Paul and George alone in the empty arcade room. Both stood up, George cradling the sleeping Snivy, but before they could do anything more, Chris had hurried back into the room, his light curls bouncing. “You have my contact info. Here’s Johns. I’ll give him yours, don’t worry. Goodnight!” He smiled and quickly left again. 

The boys looked at each other and started to laugh. It really had been an long and active day, and both were excited for the next, but more importantly; they were excited to get home and sleep. Just as the little Snivy was doing now. They left the arcade, eager for the days to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blame seasonal allergies for this mess.


	3. three.

_Tuesday, June 21st,_

It was early in the morning. Very early. George had slept over at Paul’s house and when they woke at the crack at dawn, they were quick to get out of the house and out into the summer morning. To just get the day and adventure started.

They both had lied to their parents about their plans. That it was just a recreational trip to Blackpool to belatedly celebrate Paul’s birthday. Paul knew he should have felt bad about it. Lying with such ease to his father but, he just didn’t. It was to help someone and, honestly it was exciting. He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he crossed the road towards the docks.

Traffic was stalled as a wild Snorlax had gotten lost on its way through the city and was now blocking traffic as it had fallen asleep on the slowly warming asphalt in the middle of a four-way road crossing. Both George and Paul had difficulties in hiding their laughter as police tried in vain to move the giant Pokémon.

It wasn’t uncommon for wild Pokémon to get into the city but rarely was it ever something as big as a Snorlax.

It was nearing their time to meet John but luckily as they turned a corner; they were met with the sights of clear weather and blue skies. It was the docks and since it was still early morning, loads of workers were running around carrying things that varied from clipboards to crates. Beside them were typical Pokémon like Machops or others that could handle heavy duty lifting.

They finally reached the arcade, only minutes before their meeting time, and saw that John was leaning against the wall of the old building. His arms were crossed as he looked to be talking to the Charmander by his side. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt with a leather jacket hanging around his waist. Paul swallowed and had to admit to himself; it looked great on the older boy.

The Charmander looked to the oncoming boys and immediately waddled its way over to Walton with squeaks which in turn Walton hissed at. “Be nice,” Paul quickly whispered down to his Snivy. Walton huffed in response.

John turned his head, his eyesight following his Pokémon until it then looked up to Paul and George with a nod in greeting, “finally decided to show up, eh?” He said with a curtate laugh and stepped away from the wall.

“We’re not late, are we,” George stated and it was clear that it wasn’t a question. John just shrugged in response and went past them and towards the road. Paul and George looked at each other, no words were spoken, before they then followed with the Pokémon in tow.

Paul stepped up the side of John and silently studied his new acquaintance. His quiff looked intricately worked on. With success as it looked better than the one ruined by rain yesterday. His drainpipe jeans fitted well around his thighs and Paul’s heart jumped at the sight.

Oh, he had to get it together. Sure, John was attractive. And Paul had noticed stares John had sent his way. And he was not the first man to interest Paul in this way either. But this was hardly the time or place for it. Nor could he jeopardise the… mission.

Luckily, John spoke which helped Paul take his mind away from that, “the trip to Blackpool will take two hours. The inn won’t be far from the station.”

He didn’t appear to have finished with handing out the information but stopped either way as they looked both ways of the road before crossing. It was almost deserted, strange for this time of day, aside from a van or two.

“I know the way to the inn. I’ve been there before. Absolute shite and not a place where I’ll be surprised to find Pokémon snatchers,” he sneered and Paul wondered about the history between the place and John that made him talk of it with such venom.

They reached the station grounds in silence, aside from the various sounds from their Pokémon. Who seemed to be getting along well, luckily. For Paul; he had been unsure of what to talk about with this new person. And George was usually very talkative but not around people he had just meet which explained his position in all of it.

The station was busy. Locals and tourists alike rushing from one point to another. Official places like this had a height limit for Pokémon so there was nothing taller than a, for example, Purugly. And, boy, was the name fitting Paul thought as the cat Pokémon waddled by. Paul poked George harshly in his side and nodded towards the Pokémon with a snicker. But as if it knew; it suddenly snapped its head towards with a frown, scaring the boys and they started to walk faster towards the platform they needed to go too.

John who had seen the interaction gave a bark of laughter as the boys power walked past him with Walton close behind them.

They quickly found the platform where the train already had arrived and where only waiting for passengers and for the time to be right. They got on board and found their seats for the trip; marked with numbers and a small picture of the train company’s logo. It was the Pokémon Emolga, and if Paul remembered correctly; their motto was something along the lines of ‘Powering your way forward’.

George had hurried his way to the window seat which left Paul squished in between him and George. It was cheap seats with not a lot of room for… anything really. Especially not your legs. Walton was nestled in George’s lap and was looking out the window too at the hurrying people out on the platform. Paul looked around for John’s Charmander and realised it was nowhere to be seen and that John instead had a Weedle in his lap.

“Hey… Where’s your Charmander?” Paul realised he had never been told its name.

“Wesley? … I put him back in his ball. The open flame is… risky in places like this.”

Paul nodded at the new information while looking down at the new Pokémon and couldn’t resist cooing as it stared back up at him, “and who’s this little fella?”

There was a beat of silence and Paul glanced at John. His facial expression was unreadable as he just looked down at the Weedle and Paul. He blinked, as if shook out of his train of thoughts, and answered; “that’s Prudence.”

“Oooh,” Paul looked back to the Weedle. He had never been quite fond of bug types but this one was somehow more adorable than any of the other Weedles than he had ever seen. He wasn’t sure of why. Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with its owner though… Right?

A jolt shot through the train and it started moving slowly out of the station. The journey would take three and a half hours, stuck tightly between his best friend and this (attractive) almost stranger. He knew from previous trips with this company that a cart of refreshment with roll by thirty minutes into the trip and he had to get something to drink, and something for Walton too.

The half an hour passed by quickly in silence as John stared into a book, George had been looking out the window at the landscape while Paul had fallen asleep fairly quickly into the ride.

He was awoken to a light stirring and the sound of wheels. It was the cart. But more importantly; he realised he had fallen asleep with his head on John’s shoulder and muttered his apologies as he looked over him towards the cart.

John didn’t comment on it and ordered a coffee as an old man arrived with a Chansey close behind. Paul ordered a water bottle and a small bag of mixed berries that he meant to share. George ordered something to drink too and a bag of crisps. Paul quickly tore open the bag and separated the berries into neat equal sizes and placed them on the small tables on the chairs in front of the Pokémon.

Walton grabbed a single berry with his tiny hands and gently nibbled on it. The Weedle stretched out and swallowed each berry in a single bite.

“So,” Paul started and looked to John who glanced up from his book somehow knowing it was meant for him and looked over to Paul. “You’ve been to Blackpool and this… club?”

He pulled a face as he gave an affirmative answer. He didn’t seem proud of having been there.

“Blackpool is… fine. Even fun. But this club has little going for it anymore since they changed management,” he sighed. “Don’t know who they are but they’re too willing to indulge in illegal activities when comes to Pokémon.”

Oh, that didn’t promise good.

“What… what kind of activities?” Paul couldn’t help but ask.

John looked down at him with furrowed brows. Not an angry look but more… pitying?

“You don’t want to know,” he then looked down back into his book as his Weedle had finished eating and was now cuddled up in his lap.

Paul blinked. Okay, so he supposed he would have to wait and see. He looked over to George, craving conversation, and saw that he had finished his crisps and was petting Walton while looking out the window. The morning sun shined through the window, highlighting the brow colours of George’s hair and making his cheekbones out to look much sharper.

“You seem to be getting along well with Walton,” Paul commented as he looked at the young Snivy curled up in George’s lap. He was glad for it. Paul had always imagined (and hoped) that once he got a Pokémon; it would care for George as much as he did.

George nodded and covered up a yawn with his free hand.

“D’you think he’ll know not to get on our laps once he’s fully evolved?” And before Paul could answer, Walton gave out a huff and looked up at George with a frown, seemingly offended at the question.

“…yeah,” he kept back a giggle, “he’s a smart boy, y’know.” Paul jested and patted the Pokémon on the head. And handed him one of the berries still left on the table. It eagerly grabbed it and turned to nibble on it while staring out the window. George and Paul shared a look, hiding their laughter.

“I’m gonna nap before we get to Blackpool,” George muttered before giving out yet another yawn.

Paul nodded when he suddenly felt a poking on his elbow from the other side and turned to find the Weedle, Prudence, trying to get his attention. He looked down at it; confused as to what she wanted. She nudged him again and he glanced at John, unsure of what to do because when Paul moved to pet her, she leaned away.

“John,” he called out.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, what does she… want?” He asked as she yet again leaned away from him when he tried to pet her.

John glanced down at him and down at the small Pokémon, “she likes to hide in and under jackets. You’re wearing one and I’m not so that’s probably what she wants.”

Paul ooh’d and looked back at Prudence. How was he supposed to go about this though? Deeming it worth trying, he lifted up his jacket by its ends and the Weedle gave out a small yelp and quickly slithered over on his lap and up under the soft material. It’s small feet tickled against his skin as his shirt rode with it up and he couldn’t help but emit a fit of giggling.

Time passed by quickly as John returned to his book and Paul cuddled up with the Weedle sharing its body heat underneath his shirt. It was careful in not accidentally stinging him with its barbed and pointed ends on its head and tail. Paul didn’t notice all the soft glances John cast his way as he whispered sweet nothings to Prudence as he looked down his jacket at her sleeping form.

It was nearing noon as their train settled into the station. The train ride hadn’t felt long but, boy, did Paul’s legs still feel tired from having to sit down for so long.

They hurried off the train. Paul was still carrying Prudence underneath his jacket while George had managed to get Walton to balance on his shoulder. It was impressive, though the Pokémon seemed to have a strong grip on the young boy’s hair; who didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

Stepping out of the station and into the summer sun was jarring for a second. It was warm, very much so, and Paul sighed as he realised he had the need to take his jacket off. He zipped it slightly down, still holding the small Weedle and looked down at it. “I’m gonna have you move you now,” he said as it looked up at him with its big eyes.

“Let me help you,” John stopped out in front of him and zipped down the jacket completely. Paul’s heart suddenly beat much faster and he prayed that it wouldn’t be obvious to the older man. Why was he feeling this way whenever John was close to him?

Prudence stuck to Paul the best she could before she was picked off by John who muttered something inaudible under his breath. He looked at Paul as he held the squirming bug, “she likes you,” he smirked.

Paul blushed, counting his lucky stars as John had turned his back to him again and was incapable of seeing the pink warmth across his cheeks. He wasn’t so lucky with George who looked at him with a snicker.

Blackpool was a seaside resort town and as they walked further away; it was incredibly obvious. Filled were the streets with shops catering to tourists and swimmers alike. Sunhats, sunscreens, sunglasses, Put the word sun in front of it and it was there. On the streets following the humans were a large variety of Pokémon; Paul saw Furfrous to Swoobats to Drampas. And the air was filled with screeching Wingulls as they reached closer to their destination at the south pier.

John suddenly stopped as they reached a corner. There was a clear view of the beach and Paul took in a deep breath and let the smell of salt water and sea air overtake him. John turned and looked at the young boys, though his eyes rested on Paul for a beat longer.

“We need to get our Pokémon back in their balls before we go into the  _inn_ ,” he sighed, “they’re allowed inside but I wouldn’t trust anyone there as far as I can throw ‘em.”

George nodded and was handed Walton’s ball by Paul as John sorted away the one with Prudence in it. Soon they stood Pokémonless and looked at each other before Paul asked, “anything we should know beforehand?”

John’s eyes narrowed in thought, “just keep close to me and don’t talk to anyone.”

Paul nodded and followed John as he started walking again. It was really only a few steps before they stopped again outside a large building.  **Escavalier Inn** stood in large letters over an old wooden door deep in a stone facade. It didn’t look near as seedy as Paul had expected it would from what he had been told and warned about from John. It looked… reputable, like the old inns typical of London. A wooden sign with a carving of the Escavalier mascot swang along with the slight breezes that came from the sea.

John glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed for some reason, at Paul before stepping inside.

There was a small humming of music as they entered. It came from an old-timey jukebox that was light up in various neon colours as it played.

A banner hanged above the stage and said in a thick font;  **Rory Storm and The Hurricanes**. And underneath it where a group of people, a band, who were positioned on the stage further in the room but they weren’t playing. It looked as if they were setting up their instruments to possibly play later that night, Paul assumed. It was five young looking men. Maybe around John’s age. Four of them wore matching outfits, suits in all black, and one who stood tall was separated by the rest in his all-white outfit paired with a bright gold jacket. At his feet rested a Dragonair. It was large and… stunning. Breathtaking. Paul had never seen such a Pokémon in person before and was especially fascinated by its beautiful vibrant blue colour. It looked towards Paul and his group as they entered the inn.

The Dragonair wasn’t the only Pokémon in the room. A rather intimidating looking man at the drums had an Octillery hanging off his arm as he tried to work on the set as it hanged tightly there. Paul could see the man’s mouth moving, talking and laughing, but he couldn’t hear what was said over the music.

The bartender was glaring at them and called out to John who stomped his way over to him. George poked Paul, who had been pretty distracted by the movements on the stage.

“John! Didn’t I tell you to never show your ugly mug here again?” the large man barked at John as they came closer to the bar. John laughed, much to Paul’s confusion. A Machoke stepped out into the room from an open door next to the barkeep and Paul suddenly felt nervous at the sight of the large Pokémon. Its arms were crossed as it glared down at the group.

“Thought I’d brighten up the place with my presence,” John smirked, aloof to the Machoke’s presence as he continued staring down the bartender. The large man suddenly bellowed out a laugh as he slapped his washcloth down on the bartop. “Of course! This place sure needs it,” and then looked at Paul and George who stood close next to each other, almost hiding behind John. “Who’s ye buddies?”

John stepped aside, not willing to hide the boys. It was silly anyway. Paul wasn’t scared!

“Paul,” he nodded towards him, “and George.” He repeated the previous action. The bartender looked over them, possibly studying them, and nodded. “Nice to meet ye, lads. I’m Alvin. John’s uncle.”

Paul glanced to John, his question was obvious. Who was this man exactly? Of all the talks of the place being seedy, criminal, disgusting… he had family here. Was he in on the scheme? To steal Pokémon, or was he here to help John?

John nodded with a sigh, “he knows why we here.”

“Yes, and you came at a good time. Brauer is along in the basement with the Pokémon. They’ve grown confident… cocky in their success and have relaxed their security. Thinking that no-one knows about them or if they did; would even dare to do anything about it.”

He pointed to the stage, “Ringo there will help you. They took his Mudkip so he’s more than willing to help.” It was the man with the Octillary that he was pointing towards, “he’s here with the band. Luckily, Epoch doesn’t know it’s his Mudkip.”

Paul stepped forward, “Epoch?” It sounded familiar. Had the police officer back when they first got to the Pokécenter yesterday mentioned them?

Alvin glanced to John with a raised brow, who shrugged and said; “it’s the gang Brauer and Hallard are part of. They fancy themselves on the same level of Team Rocket or Flare,” he rolled his eyes. “They really just a bunch of idiots.

Alvin chuckled, “now I wouldn’t underestimate them. They’ve grown since you last bumped into them, John. Change of leaders too.” John narrowed his eyes as he stared down Alvin, “really?” He sounded amused at the thought. He clearly sounded very unimpressed with the group.

“Yes,” his uncle nodded, “they practically worship some lady now. Named Kailli or something.” He glanced to Paul, “not someone to be messed with from what I’ve heard. Supposedly she got one mean Salazzle. Shiny too” John whistled at the thought but shrugged, “She’s not here though?”

“No,” Alvin responded and looked to the stage. Ringo was waving them over. Alvin looked back to the small group and smiled, “it’s time. Good luck.”

John quickly marched over the stage as Ringo hopped down from the lifted platform. He was leaning against the wood with his Octillery finally off his arm and sitting next to him on the stage. He didn’t look any less intimidating as they neared the stage. Sure, he had a soft look in his eyes but it was largely overshadowed by his curling quiff, a grey streak down its side, that was paired with a matching beard and moustache. Paul noticed as he stood in silence listening to John introduce themselves, that the eyebrow on the same side as grey streak was a visibly lighter colour too. Paul realised this; he was definitely staring too hard and long at the man.

But he soon found out he wasn’t the only one as he glanced to George, the younger man was too staring at the new addition to the group. And opposed to Paul; it looked like he was blushing. Paul smiled and bit back a snicker as he zoned back into the conversation.

“Nice to meet ye all,” Ringo said and reached out to shake Paul’s hand. The same was done with George who had know returned from whatever he had been thinking about. Paul nudged him gently in his side and wiggled his brows as soon as the younger boy looked at him. “Sod off,” he muttered but not without a small smile of his own.

In the meanwhile, John and Ringo had gone ahead and the young men quickly hurried to follow along with the pair. They entered a small backroom and down a rickety flight of stairs that made Paul’s inside turn as he looked down the occasionally broken steps. They reached a steel door that stood out from the otherwise prominent brick wall that surrounded him.

“This is it,” Ringo whispered and looked back and forth between them. John nodded and looked at the door over. “The idiot,” he muttered and opened the heavy door. It was unlocked! It was hiding stolen Pokémon and it was… unlocked.

They heard music as soon as they entered. Not something Paul thought was any good. And a small voice hummed along to it. John moved his finger to his mouth and indicated for them to be quiet. Easy.

Ringo placed the Octillery carefully on the floor and whispered, “you know what to do, Zak.” It looked to Ringo with a determined nod and crawled towards the figure of a sitting man further in the room. It was then Paul noticed what was in front of said man. Cages! There were two, not as many as he had admittedly expected. One was filled with the Professor’s stolen Pokémon. The Bulbasaur, the Squirtle, and the Charmander were huddled up in the corners, visibly frightened. The other cage right next to it was sparse. A single Mudkip, Ringo’s, lied around something that appeared to be an… egg? It was a stark white with blue and red triangles pattern all over it. The Mudkip appeared to be protecting it and glared silently at its captor.

Finally; the Octillery had reached the man and had its tentacles moved around the legs of the chair the stranger was sitting on. Suddenly, the Pokémon pulled it out from under him. He yelped and from the floor staring at the Pokémon with large widened eyes.

John darted into the room as Ringo yelled, “Now!”

Paul and George looked at each other in confusion. Clearly, they had missed out on some important information while they had been otherwise distracted earlier. Anyhow, they quickly followed after John.

The Octillery had squirted out a dark black liquid across the eyes of the captor. Ink, Paul realised. Of course. It had blinded the stranger who now laid writhing on the floor with his hands over his eyes. Effective, but (fortunately) the blinded effect wouldn’t be permanent.

Ringo hurried to the cage with the Mudkip inside while George and Paul ran to the other cage. The Pokémon was understandably frightened but quickly seemed to pick up the situation when the cage was unlocked. John was left by the moaning grunt. He had emptied the guy’s pockets and now held four Pokéballs. He didn’t move before he suddenly gave a large kick to the man’s stomach and the groaning ceased. John huffed and moved over the join Paul and George in letting out the Pokémon.

Ringo stepped over to them. He was carrying a large egg with his Octillery now again hanging off his arm. The Mudkip stood by his feet, looking pointedly up at the egg. Paul could see that the Mudkip must have mentally adopted the baby Pokémon and felt a possible paternal bond from their shared capture.

As John, Paul, and George each held a freed Pokémon; they were ready to leave again when a large slam erupted and their heads immediately snapped to the door from which they had entered. “Shit,” John muttered and called the starter Pokémons into their balls. “We’re not alone,” he whispered. But before any more could be said a robust, balding, man entered the room with a Stunky at his side.

“Cease your foolishness!” He yelled out and Paul choked back a snicker. What a thing to say.

“I am Clang and these are not your Pokémon to take!” It was continued in the same dramatic fashion as before. “They so are!” John yelled back and the stranger huffed at him as his Stunky stared furiously at them.

“Ahme!” He yelled and looked over his shoulder. “Get back the egg! Now!”

A rather pretty young woman entered the room. A Musharna floated by her head.

Paul felt an unease overtaking him and the world around him started to act… strange. It was as if he was drunk. Or on a boat. It floated and he felt lightheaded. John muttered a long line of profanities as he covered his mouth with his hand, but it was useless as he soon after passed out. “…What?” Paul blinked and looked to George and Ringo who were now laying on the ground too.

The last thing Paul saw before he went down too was a heavy feeling overtaking him. And the sight of a large overbearing pink mist that slowly swallowed him up as he watched the strangers. Their Pokémon were gone and their mouths covered with dark purple masks. And the Pokéballs rolling out of John’s open palms, towards Ahme and Clang.


	4. interlude: octillery's garden.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eight-year-old Richard Starkey is sick. Constantly in and out of hospitals. He misses his friends, school and his own room. He had gotten used to the blinding whites of the patient rooms. Gotten used to the pain that followed surgeries. One day, as he lies in bed sinking slowly into a depression, his mom visits him with a gift.

_12 years ago_ , **  
**

The sun shone through the curtains, nearly blinding little Richard who lied helplessly in the hospital bed nearest to the bright windows. It was very bright, too bright. And the sound of birds from outside and children playing further down the hall only made it worse. His head hurt, his body hurt, all of it; pain. He called out to his mom as she was nowhere to be seen. He tried again to the same failure.

Instead, a nurse wandered in. She was carrying a tray with a Blissey by her side, who too carried a tray but smaller in size. The nurse smiled politely at him as she placed the tray on the table on his right side of the bed. “How are you today, Richie?”

“I miss my mum,” he muttered and looked down at his hands.  

The nurse took the tray from the Blissey and placed it next to the other tray. The big one contained Ringo’s lunch for today. The other had medicine, a bottle and a syringe laid next to each other.

“Oh,” the nurse took a break in prepping the different foods and looked at him again, “she told me she just needed to get something from home real quick. She’ll be back soon, don’t you worry.” The Blissey chirped in agreement.

His mother had gone home? What for?

“I hope this is all to your tastes,” the nurse softly said as she placed a bed tray over Richard. It had a bowl of vegetables. A plate of rice and chicken and the usual bowl of fruit for dessert. All together with two glasses. One with water for his pills, one with apple choice to drink with the food. It was the typical lunch at the hospital and all something he did like. He nodded and began to eat as the nurse sat next to the tray of medicine.

Once he had eaten; he was quickly handed the pills and swallowed them. It left a stinging sensation in his throat, as it always did, and he drank some additional water to help ease the feeling. Once done, he nodded and gave a slight thumbs up to the nurse.

“Now, before I leave, I’ll have to inject you with this,” she showed him the syringe. It was not his first time with a needle like that and he sighed. “It goes into your neck. Blissey here,” he glanced down at the smiling Pokémon, “will help you stay at ease with her move Sing. Okay?”

He nodded and leaned forward as the nurse stepped forward with the syringe in hand. The Blissey focused on him and started to vocalise a small enchanting hum. It wasn’t enough for him to fall asleep but it calmed him down and he couldn’t feel whatever was happening behind him, other than a single poke.

“Good,” the nurse appeared before him again and he leaned back into the raised pillows on the bed. “You did so well,” she smiled and he couldn’t help but blush ever so slightly at the compliment. If only all the nurses he had experienced had been so kind!

“Blissey and I have to leave now but you just push that call button if you ever need anything. Okay?” He nodded as she turned to leave, her pink hair bouncing along with her movements.

He looked at his homemade snare drum at the left side table. It was a sad looking thing but it was all he had at the hospital. Maybe he should play with it. It was only noon so he was allowed to make a little noise. But before he could decide on anything; he heard a knocking. He looked around before the door opened a bit and a head poked in. It was his mum!

“Hi, Richie, darling. I have a surprise for you,” she beamed, a great big smile on her face. Richard sat up as far as he could in his bed. A surprise! Oh, what could it be? She laughed at the happiness on his face and opened up the door further. Her hands ever behind her back, holding something. What could it be?

She stood at the end of his bed and finally showed him what it was as he eagerly tried to get a peak.

It was a small aquarium. In it was a single Pokémon. A small light blue fish. It had giant eyes and two stripes on each of its sides. Richard gaped at his mom who proudly showed it to him. “What kind is that?” He asked looking hastily back and from her and the Pokémon.

“It’s a Remoraid, darling!” She laughed and went to his left side where she removed the snare drum to place the tank on the table. The Pokémon was staring at him with its large unblinking eyes. Richard was unsure of how to feel. He did feel happy. His own Pokémon! But was it allowed in the hospital? And why had his mum decided on this one?

His confusion was apparently… apparent on his face as his mother then explained; “it turns into that octopus Pokémon I’ve seen you stare at when we go to the fish market.” He ooh’d and looked carefully at the fish. That turns into the bright red octopus he had been so fascinated by? The octopus was holding several knives and were cutting sushi pieces. Could Pokémon really be so… advanced?

“What’s… its name?” He asked and finally looked away from the fish to look at his mother.

She giggled and poked him on the tip of his nose, “that’s up to you, darling!”

He should decide? He didn’t know any good names! His eyes flickered to his mum and back to the Pokémon as he thought of names. People in school, when was healthy enough to go, called him Lazarus. Could he name the fish that? Or would that be weird as it was his own nickname?

“Oh! It’s a boy,” his mother quickly said. That did help. Now he at least knew what kind of name to  _try_  and think of.

Suddenly, he remembered something. Once on a field trip, they went to the waterfront. He had been told the sea air would be good for his health but he had felt rather cold that they. He remembered they passed a homeless man curled up with a Slakoth. He had a sign that said ‘ **Food for Zachariah** ’. Ringo wondered who Zachariah was, and where they were now.

“Zak,” he muttered. Yes, that was good! Zachariah was too long anyhow. He could hardly say it! He nodded and looked to the Pokémon.

“His name is Zak.”


	5. four.

_????_ ,

Paul woke up on a cold stone floor with no idea of where he was. He knew not how he had gotten there but he knew that he had been passed out in a heavy cloud of Dream Mist and most likely had been moved by the perpetrators to where he was now.

Groaning as he sat up, his whole body was aching, and he looked around. John was setting in a corner staring at him, concern visible across his face but he looked down in his folded arms the moment their eyes met. He looked around for George and quickly saw him rushing towards him tackling him in a crushing hug.

“You’re okay!” George let him go and his flickered across his face. Paul nodded. He felt sore, sure, but otherwise fine. At least physically. They had royally screwed up. There was no ignoring that. Not only had they failed in saving the Professor’s Pokémon but they had lost their own.

He looked around the small room that was their prison and increasingly felt panic overtake him.

”Where’s Ringo?” Paul was panicking. They were missing Ringo! He looked around the small room again. He was nowhere to be seen. George shook his head, “I don’t know. He wasn’t here when I woke up.” He sounded distraught, and dehydrated.

Paul looked to John with wide eyes but only got a shrug in return.

Oh, this was bad. Very bad. They couldn’t possibly think of harming Ringo, right? Or them? Could it be that Ringo possibly had managed to escape? But without them? If he had the chance; wouldn’t he have brought them along? Not that he knew the guy any well. They had just met.

Paul got a shock when a loud overpowering voice boomed out, “You kidnapped them? I told you to just keep the Pokémon! Idiots! All of you! Do something about it before The Lady arrives!” A loud beeping erupted as the call ended and loud hushed voices yelled out at each other.

“Damn it!” One said.

“We’re screwed!” Another.

And one yelled, “we have to get rid of them before the Kaili gets here!”

Paul turned his head towards the sound and could scarcely see three men dressed in all purple were the source of the yelling. A fourth appeared and Paul immediately recognized him. It was that guy! Clang! That guy who, with the lady, was the fault of Paul and his friends’ placement in this rotten cage.

“Fools! The mighty Kaili would not come to this place!” His arms were crossed as he stared the men down. The Stunky from before was at his side still, staring down the men from its low height.

“And we cannot just let them go! They will surely go to the police and then yet again those filthy detectives will be after us. We have just managed to get them off our tail! Let us not repeat past mistakes!” The Stunky growled at the men who jumped back in fear. “We have already lost one! Let us not lose anymore!” and the men nodded hastily at the man as he turned away and disappeared from Paul’s field of vision.

“What does he mean by they ‘lost one’?” Paul heard George ask and he turned to look at him again. He looked no less distraught than before. Paul didn’t know what to say and glanced at John in the hope that he possibly knew.

If John knew he was being looked at, he showed no signs of it as it looked like he was trying to burn holes in his hands by staring.

What Paul wasn’t aware of; was that John blamed himself for their capture. He was the oldest of the three and had felt a certain responsibility for them. And felt that he had failed in that.

“Maybe…” Paul swallowed deeply. God, he could do with something to drink. “Maybe… he escaped?” George nodded carefully, hopeful in what Paul said to be true.

Suddenly; a door slammed and John shot to his feet and within seconds stood with his hands around the bars of their jail. It was obviously originally meant for Pokémon but clearly, it worked for humans too.

“You bitch!” He sneered at whoever had entered the room.

Paul stood up and looked to what had caused the sudden anger and movement in John, as he had seemed rather immovable in his pensive state not long ago.

It was the woman from before. The woman with the Musharna who had used Dream Mist on them. Ahme, now with a small Skitty at her feet. She and her Musharna was probably the biggest reason they were stuck in this concrete prison without their Pokémon. Even more so than that Clang guy.

John’s sudden outburst made more sense now.

John, who was staring down the woman. She stood near the bars but not close enough for John to reach her, which Paul feared the possibility of him doing.

But Ahme wasn’t looking at the closest standing man but rather at Paul. Her look was peculiar. Sympathetic and almost… sad? Why would she be any of that? Isn’t this what she and her gang would have wanted?

Her hands were folded and she looked down briefly when her soft voice said, “I am sorry.”

Paul and George glanced at each other; both confused. She was… sorry?

“I did not… want to… do that to you,” she seemed nervous and often glanced over her shoulder to the door behind her. What little she has said seemed… treacherous to her gang so she was perhaps more than fearful of discovery.

“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses,” John again sneered at her. Paul stepped up next to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, causing John’s head to immediately snap towards him; staring him down.

“I… think we should give her a chance to say her piece,” Paul looked at John, unsure of what his reaction would be. The other man only looked quietly down at the hand on his shoulder and huffed as he stepped away from the bars.

Paul nodded, more to himself than anyone else, and looked back to the woman.

“Your friend,” she started and George suddenly appeared next to Paul. Standing where John once did. Interrupting her, George asked; “is he okay? Did he escape?”

She nodded, “the Dream Mist didn’t work on him… And while we weren’t looking; he escaped. Or… well, I saw him. But I didn’t stop him.”

Paul blinked, “why not?”

“I…” she glanced shortly at her feet, “Epoch didn’t always steal Pokémon. We used to do things for good. And help people. And now, we’re… we’re criminals!”

She was visibly upset and drew a heavy sigh, “I can’t leave Epoch before I find my sister. But I can hinder them in their… evil deeds. In secret.”

Her hand dug around in the pocket of her large purple coat and out she pulled a bundle of keys. One specifically she pulled off the ring and gave to Paul through the iron bars.

“Take this,” she said to Paul in a hushed voice.

“But only use it once the alarm goes off. Your friend will have gone to the police and they will come. Clang and I will escape but in our rush, we won’t get to the stolen Pokémon before.”

A loud voice yelled out from the other room and Ahme stepped away from the prison. She glanced at the door and quickly whispered, “they’re in the basement,” with a pointed look to a heavy door to her right and rushed out the door with the Skitty close behind her.

The door shut close and after a short moment, Paul looked down at the rusting key. On it was a carving of a bare-chested woman with ten arms. Huh. What was this symbol supposed to depict? Was it the icon of the Epoch? Some kind of depiction of their leader Kaili?

Nevertheless; with the key in hand, Paul felt a wave of reassurance come over him. They could do this!

He quickly pocketed the key and looked away from the door to behind him. John was leaning against the wall he had once been sitting up against. His mood still indescribable. Before he was upset, understandably, but now he was back to being quiet and contemplative. Paul only hoped he would be alright.

George was looking at Paul. Both waiting for the alarm they were so anxious on. She had made no mention or comment as to when it would go off. But it was hopefully soon.

But Paul couldn’t wait. He anxiously paced back and forth, expecting the alarm to go off any moment. He felt he hadn’t had the chance to really… react to what had happened. He felt that he had to remain calm… collected. But it wasn’t working out. Especially now when it was all coming together and all there was left was to wait.

He turned to George and stopped his constant pacing. George looked at him, clearly concerned. Which Paul admittedly felt bad about. His pacing back and forth must hack made quite an appearance.

He stepped up to George and in a moment, lost the strong grip he had at appearing ‘tough’ and rested his head on the other boy’s shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered into the leather of George’s jacket.

“I didn’t mean to pull you into all of… this.”

He looked back up at George, who shook his head and said; “you couldn’t have known it would go like this.”

And just as Paul was about to say something, apologise and insist, a loud high pitched buzz erupted throughout the building. John jumped away from his place against the wall and came to stand next to Paul.

“It’s go time,” he looked to and from the cage door and Paul as the beeping continued through an eruption of yells and Pokémon calls coming from the other room.

Paul nodded and quickly made his way to the door with the key ready in hand. It was hastily pushed open and all three men rushed to yet another door. The one that should let them into the basement and the imprisoned Pokémon.

The industrial steel stairs lead them down and through a slim dark hallway. Paul desperately felt around for a light switch and as something clicked; stark clinical white light swept over the room. There were several cages. A lot more than what had been in the basement of the Escavalier Inn. Paul saw his Snivy. The Professor’s Pokémon, John’s and the ones belonging to Ringo. Apparently, he had not managed to get them with him when he escaped, though the interestingly pattern egg were nowhere to be seen.

And then there were many more Pokémon. Of a large variety; from Psyducks to Growlithes to Pyukumukus. From all that he saw, he could tell there was a lot of people out there missing their Pokémon.

His leg was embraced in a tight hug by Walton as he let him out of the cage he shared with a group of Eevees. Paul could see no logic in the way the Pokémon was paired up. It seemed rather random. Not that was at all his main concern. Either way; he picked up his Snivy and was quickly embraced in another tight hug.

“How’re we supposed to get them all up?” George asked and looked around the room filled with now free Pokémon.

A booming voice answered that before Paul could; “no need to worry about that, young man.” Paul immediately looked to the source and saw an older moustachioed gentleman stand at the end of the staircase. At his feet proudly stood a Stoutland. John shot to his feet but before any of the young men could react, he introduced himself;

“I am Detective George Marting,” he pulled out a flashy badge. Martin pointed with an open palm to the large Pokémon, “this is my Pokémon partner, Samuel.” The aforementioned dog Pokémon growled, though it felt non-threatening and more like a greeting. Paul wondered how Martin had gotten the large dog down the stairs, as he hadn’t heard the sound of a Pokéball.

“My partner, Mr Epstein, and I will take over from here.”

Paul was about to comment on it when loud footsteps were heard coming down the stairs and the serious looking man stepped aside to the let whomever it was pass. The first to come through was Ringo! He looked stressed but was quickly elated by the sight of his Octillery and Mudkip leaning against each other at George’s feet. Though, another thing about Ringo that Paul just couldn’t help but snicker at was that a large baby carrier was strapped to his chest with the triangle patterned egg resting inside it. It made quite a sight with Ringo running toward his Pokémon while still dressed in his pink suit.

Following Ringo was another man. He looked younger than Martin but older than Paul and his friends. He was kindly looking with his hair gelled back, though it was fighting back and curling at his forehead. He was followed by a stunning icy Ninetales. He patted the detective on his shoulder who muttered a, “speaking of.”

“Boys,” the man Paul would assume was Brian Epstein started, “your friend Ringo here has told me all about your situation.” His hand was still on the shoulder of his partner. “Once we have cleared up the building together with the police; my partner and I will drive two of you home in our car while another will go with Mr Starkey.” He pointed to Ringo. Starkey? Weren’t his last name Starr? “Whoever goes with him is up to you.”

George quickly volunteered and looked flustered once he had realised the speed at which he had done so; much to Paul’s amusement.

“Now,” Epstein turned to Martin, “is all the Pokémon accounted for.”

The man sternly nodded and looked to the group, “you boys can just head upstairs now with your Pokémon and the Professors.” And then he and Epstein proceeded further into the room and looked over the now freed Pokémon as Paul and his friends passed them by to head upstairs.

* * *

The drive home passed by quickly. Paul sat in the back with John as the two detectives sat up front, trying to make conversation with the two boys. It wasn’t a big car and Paul sat close to John, pushed up against his leather coat, with their hands occasionally meeting in quick warm touches; making Paul feel rather flustered whenever it happened.

Paul tried to keep himself distracted from the thoughts that nourished from the small touches. The thoughts of him and John. He was handsome, yes. Even as he looked a mess, they both did, from their capture in the dark space of the Epoch hideout. John’s quiff had long since given up. He had dirt stains and gravel on his jacket. But Paul couldn’t help but stare. Though, he did at least try to hide it. Not wanting to be caught and creep out the older man.

The detectives, Epstein and Martin, had made sure to feed them. Together with George and Ringo before they all parted their ways, they had stopped at a café near the police station.  **The Paras-ian Café**  it was… cleverly named. The logo matching the Pokémon in the pun. What the bug type exactly had to do with their food… Paul tried not to think about. But it all tasted fine and had been paid for by the detectives. They had largely congratulated them on their work in helping to find the lost Pokémon but had also made time to scold them about how they had put themselves in grave danger.

They had made things clearer to them. They had not been passed out for more than a few hours.

Ringo’s apparent immunity to the Dream Mist was this; as a kid, he went through many medical procedures and they had used the help of Pokémon moves to either calm him or outright make him sleep. Years of that had made him built up a slight immunity. Not a complete one, but enough for him to have woken up quickly and run to get help.

John; now having his mood improved by the presences of daylight, food and his Pokémon, gave the detectives a run for their money with a large foray of snide comments and sarcasm. It had helped to cheer up the still downcast Paul, who was dreading how to explain all of what had happened to his father. The detectives had only called George’s parents as he was still legally a minor. And they would definitely have brought that information further along to his father.

Paul kept unto the hope that his father wouldn’t let this little… detour distract or complicate the Pokémon Journey he was yet to start out on. Paul still wanted to go out into the world! To train Pokémon and defeat gym leaders! George had wanted to go along with him on the said journey until he himself was old enough to get his first Pokémon and trainer license.

But now, as Paul stared out the car window, at the moving landscape; it all seemed a little bleak.


	6. interlude: drive my carbink.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after having volunteered to take a drive with Ringo, George goes through the motions of being alone with his crush.

_Elsewhere at the same point in time;_

the drive was far too short for George’s tastes. Not only was he more than happy to delay his homecoming, delay facing his (undoubtedly) angry parents; he imagined them to be quite displeased with him- having lied to them about his trip and that he ended up getting in real danger too. But it wasn’t the only thing that made him want to prolong his stay in the rickety old Ford Zephyr; it was a well-maintained car but its last day was soon nearing. George liked it far better than he did any other car. It was very Ringo. He didn’t know the man very well yet (hopefully, he could come to know him more) but signs of his personality shone through the various items throughout the car. Drumsticks resting in the front of the car, against the window, rolling back and forth as the car moved. An air of tobacco and cologne mixed with the faint smell of Poké Puffs and ink. The last George could easily guess the source of- the Octillery dozing off in its bassinet-like holder (he thought he heard the splashing of water as the octopus moved in its sleep) on one of the backseats, surrounded by half-eaten Pokéblocks and Puffs.

George himself sat with the uniquely pattern egg in his lap, the one Ringo had saved from the dreadful place they slowly made their way away from. Wrapping his arms around it he swore he could feel a heartbeat and couldn’t resist the urge to lie his cheek on the top of it; slowly feeling more and more relaxed as he listened to the melodic beating. Comfort and happiness wrapped itself around him like a good woollen blanket. He didn’t notice Ringo look at him with a soft smile as his eyes were closed, focusing on the image of the baby inside the egg, wondering what kind it was.

He spent most of the trip quiet. Don’t get it wrong- he had a lot he wanted to say, but it was just when he looked at Ringo, his dark curls, the grey stripe that went through one side of his hair, and his large blue eyes, it was like something got stuck in his throat and his heart started stammering like mad; like if a Spoink was just going to town down there, bouncing on the soft organ with its spring tail, laughing maniacally… Or however a Spoink with go about it. Oink madly? However, it was- George found himself infatuated with the man. He felt something he had never felt with any girl he had ever been with (not that had been very many. At least, not compared to Paul), it was overwhelming but not something he couldn’t control… for the time being. Aside from the occasional fierce blush that crept onto his face when Ringo and his baby blues looked down at him. And it was more than not that he felt the red hot; Ringo had called him Georgie at one point in their conversations. It was a nickname George quite detested and was used more often to mock but hearing it come from Ringo’s pink lips… he found himself liking it and craved to hear it in the drummer’s deep voice again.

They made it back to Liverpool (far too quickly!) and George helped Ringo find the way to his home. It was getting a little late in the evening, not too far from when George and his family would usually eat. The light in the house was one and he could see the back of his mother standing in the kitchen, talking to his sister who was cradling their Farfetch’d in her arm- it weren’t a light Pokémon but, then again, Louise had always had strong arms. He couldn’t see his father and it only worsened the creeping anxiety. He hesitated getting out the car as it sat humming in on the other side of the street to the house. He couldn’t like; he was scared. He wasn’t a stranger to trouble but, oh boy, he had really mucked it up this time. Sitting there, letting the panic slowly come over him, he felt a warm weight land on his shoulder. He turned and saw Ringo, his bejewelled hand resting on his bony shoulder, with a pitying look in his eyes. 

“I’m sure they’ll understand if you explain it all to them,” he nodded towards the house that George feared. Ringo leaned over George, sending his mind ablaze as he smelled the cologne more closely than ever before, and opened the door for the young man. “Good luck,” he smiled and patted the shoulder- it was enough for George to finally sink his spit deeply and go out with unsteady feet. He quickly placed the triangle patterned egg on the warm seat behind him and rushed over the street to face the music.


End file.
